


Hiding

by Estrella3791



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 00:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estrella3791/pseuds/Estrella3791
Summary: Danny's frustrated and tired of hiding, so he storms out of the apartment and into the little coffee shop down the corner. While he's there he sees a familiar face.





	Hiding

Danny is tired. So, so tired.  
He’s tired of the insaneness that is the result of being part of the Eye. He’s tired of the craziness that ensues every time they pull off another heist. He’s tired of running, tired of stealing from shadow to shadow and only having brief moments of time in the sun.  
Living in hiding has never appealed to him, not even when he was small and had buddies that talked of how exciting it would to be a spy living undercover. He’s never liked the idea of spending his life staying out of sight, covering his tracks and making sure that no one saw him. It all seemed so exhausting back then, as a child.  
He had no idea.  
The other Horsemen don’t seem to mind it.   
Sometimes he wonders if Dylan even notices that they rarely ever see the light of day. The man is so focused on getting the plans planned, practiced, and performed that Daniel isn’t entirely convinced that he’s not some sort of perfect clone that the Eye created or something. That would definitely explain why Dylan is so ridiculously focused and unshakeable.  
Merritt, he knows, gets restless sometimes, but the mentalist’s house fever is usually cured by a brisk walk around the neighborhood (at night, of course, and wearing a hood and ball cap), and then the older man is good to go for another few months. It seems so childishly simple, and it actually _works _, and Danny envies him that.  
Lula isn’t thrilled to be stuck in a house for months on end, but she also doesn’t seem too affected. Danny supposes that the close proximity to Jack has a big role to play in her happiness. Then again, Lula is so easily entertained by the smallest things that he knows she would probably be just fine without her boyfriend by her side. She seems to derive more entertainment out of tormenting her fellow Horsemen than he does out of stepping foot outside the house. It’s amazing, really.  
Though all of them don’t mind _the house arrest, Jack is the only one that actually seems to _like _it. He sits quietly in his chair, shuffling his cards and watching Lula make fun of Merritt, for hours on end, and he has a stupid grin plastered on his face the whole time. Danny’s guessing that his apparent enjoyment of being stuck in the house with all of them stems from all the years that the kid has spent on his own, with no family or friends. It makes sense, honestly. Running away from home does strange things to someone’s brain, and Danny surmises that it’s comforting to Jack to see all of his makeshift ‘family’ in one place all the time.  
Whatever the reason, Jack is content, Lula is enjoying herself, Merritt is reasonably happy, and Dylan is locked away in his room, doing goodness knows what to prepare for the next act.  
Daniel’s not. Not any of those. Not content, not enjoying himself, not reasonably happy, and not locked away in his room.  
That last one would be because he doesn’t _have _a room.  
The apartment they’re in right now is a tiny one – two bedrooms. _Two! _Anyway, the lack of sleeping space meant that some people were going to have to make sacrifices. Jack and Lula, obviously, share a room, as do Merritt and Dylan. Merritt was surprisingly docile around Dylan when the man was in a ‘thinking mood,’ and it was for that reason that Dylan had claimed Merritt as his roommate.  
That leaves Daniel on the couch.  
The stupid _couch _.  
Needless to say, he’s not very happy about it. He doesn’t like the fact that he doesn’t have a space of his own. He doesn’t like the fact that there’s usually (read: always) someone in the room with him. (When you only have a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and two bedrooms, lots of people all the time is to be expected.) He _especially _doesn’t like the fact that his exposed position means that he has no privacy, whatsoever.  
There are so many people in the apartment. The apartment is so tiny. Danny doesn’t like staying in the same space for a long time.  
All of these things combined are a recipe for disaster.  
One rainy October morning Danny’s feeling even more edgy than usual. (This is probably due to the fact that Jack, Lula, and Merritt teamed up to booby-trap the entire living room _and _the bathroom, warning Dylan about it and then locking themselves in their rooms. Somewhere between the couch and the bathroom he got shaving cream lobbed at him, confetti sprinkled on him, and so many fake snakes jumped out on him that he was ready to scream.) Jack’s snoring softly on the couch, Lula’s curled up next to him with a book, and Merritt is watching a show on his laptop. Dylan is, as always, locked away in his room.  
Danny himself is trying to perfect a card trick that he came up with awhile back. He doesn’t like practicing cards in front of Jack, because he gets so criticized by the kid that it usually ends in a screaming match, but he does like practicing cards. The rhythm of the shuffling and the soft whoosh the cards make as they swirl around in his hands soothes his raw nerves. So he takes advantage of the fact that Jack is sound asleep at the moment and seizes the opportunity to practice.  
He’s almost gotten the move down pat and is about to go ask Dylan if he’ll be his volunteer when Merritt taps on his shoulder, he jumps, and the cards go flying. He whirls around, ire raised.  
“What was that for?” he asks, glaring at his (sometimes) friend.   
Merritt shrugs innocently.  
“You looked like you were working too hard. I thought you should take a break.”  
Danny just glares at him, knowing that ‘I like making people irritated’ is a much more accurate reason, as he gathers up his cards.  
“Yeah? Well, I’m fine. I don’t need your help. Thanks.”  
Merritt raises his hands and his eyebrows in mock hurt and backs away.  
“Touchy, touchy.”  
The mentalist returns to his headphones and Netflix, and the illusionist takes a deep breath and tries again. He’s only just finished flipping the bottom card over when...   
“Whatcha doing?”  
The bottom card goes fluttering to the ground, and Danny glares at it and then Lula.  
“Seriously?”  
She shrugs, her eyes dancing with mischief.  
“My book got boring.”  
Danny glowers at her, retrieving his fallen card.  
“Go ask Merritt if you can watch _Gilmore Girls _with him,” he retorts, “and stay out of my personal bubble.”  
‘Personal bubbles’ are something Merritt insists are crucial to mental well-being (though he has no respect for them whatsoever), and he snaps at everyone who invades his. All the Horsemen have picked up the habit.  
Dylan says it makes them sound like a bunch of four year olds, but what does he know?  
A lot, Daniel mentally concedes, but that is not the point here.  
“I’m not watching _Gilmore Girls _,” Merritt scoffs from the couch. “I’m watching a very intense action movie that would probably give the poor girl nightmares.”  
“Yeah, right,” Danny huffs under his breath, “nightmares about bad CGI, maybe.”  
Lula rolls her eyes and plops herself down next to Merritt, who just grins and offers her an earbud. The girl has somehow wormed her way into his list of favorite people.  
Said list is limited to her and... actually, she’s the only one on it, Danny’s pretty sure.  
Anyway, Danny starts to get back into the rhythm of his cards, and there is blessed silence, and for a moment all is well. But then...  
“You know, your posture is all wrong. You should stand up more straight and – ”  
But Jack never gets to tell him what he should be doing differently, because at that moment Danny’s already thin patience snaps.  
“I don’t _care _,” he snarls. Jack jumps at his fierce tone and holds up a hand.  
“Hey, sorry, man – ”  
Danny ignores him as he sweeps by, snatches his jacket off of the couch, and heads for the door. Jack sits up straighter and Lula and Merritt rip out their earbuds.  
“Whoa, bro,” Lula says. “That’s a bad plan.”  
“It’s rush hour,” Merritt says evenly. “There’s going to be someone who’ll recognize you, and I don’t think you want to try to outrun the police.”  
Danny doesn’t so much as look at them. He’s done with them, he’s done with this place, he’s done with this ‘Eye’ nonsense. He pulls on his jacket and storms out the door._____________________

_____________________He never realized how peaceful the inside of the coffee shop down the street was until now. He keeps his hood up and his head down as he sips on his hot cocoa, staring out the window at all the people passing by. He sees umbrellas of every color and design pass by. He sees little kids, he sees businessmen, he sees bespectacled hipsters, all flowing in the same steady stream of people.  
He’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be one of them.  
He can’t remember the last time he walked along a sidewalk.  
He misses it, he realizes. He didn’t think that he would, but he does. He misses being among the throng of people. He misses the slight thrill of jaywalking to get to his destination. He misses trying to step over the cracks in the sidewalk while still looking like a sane and normal person.  
His thoughts are interrupted by someone sitting down beside him. He doesn’t even turn to look at who it is until he hears a very familiar voice say, “Hey, Danny.”  
He’s so surprised that he chokes on his hot chocolate. He sets it down, coughing, and turns to look into a pair of deep brown eyes.  
“Henley,” he sputters, still trying to clear the cocoa from his lungs, and she just grins at him, obviously amused at his reaction.  
She hasn’t changed a bit. Her hair is the same, her face is just the same – heavens, even her makeup looks the same.  
The only difference is the name on her cup.  
“Not going to help you,” he observes, still coughing slightly.  
“Pardon?” she asks, unwinding her scarf.  
He’d forgotten how she played dumb when he didn’t explain everything. He’d forgotten how annoying it was.  
“The name on your cup,” he says. “Saying that your name is Gretchen isn’t going to help you get past the police.”  
“Saying that my name is Henley isn’t going to help, either,” she counters. It’s a fair point, since Henley Reeves is a name that’s still famous enough to arouse suspicions, but Danny’s had a bad day and he’ll defend his point until he dies.  
“You don’t even _look _like a Gretchen,” he says scornfully.  
He was expecting her to come back with a witty and clever retort, but she doesn’t. She stares at him for half a second, and then she laughs.  
She laughs the laugh that she used to back when they were young and poor and together, when he’d tell a joke that was stupid and crass and she was drunk enough to still think that he was hilarious.  
He’s missed that laugh a lot more than he’d care to admit.  
“‘I don’t look like a Gretchen,’” she chortles. “Glad to hear that you’re concerned about me, Danny.”  
He ignores the fact that her voice saying his name makes him want to bury his face in her shoulder and let her hold him until he feels better.  
"Glad to hear that you still have a sense of humor," he grumbles.  
Not a good comeback, not one that would have stood even the slightest chance in the endless witty banters that they used to have, but he's past the point of being able to think up a good retort.   
She looks at him, all signs of mirth gone from her eyes. She looks at him, and he can tell that she's doing her thing, her thing where she knows exactly what he's thinking and it's even creepier than Merritt because she's not supposed to be able to read minds.  
"They're driving you crazy, hmm?" she says –not a question, but a statement.  
"Well, that was an abrupt change of topic," he huffs. She smirks at him knowingly.  
"Don't even try to distract me," she says. "My powers of concentration are even better than Dylan's."  
He doesn't argue, because he knows it's true.  
"You can't make me talk," he says sullenly, and he knows that it sounds like he's pouting and he knows that he's no better than a little kid but he also knows that he's not ready to talk about this personal a subject. Not with her. Not when she’s the person he wants most of all to think that he’s strong.  
"No, but I can talk _to _you," she says, and she settles back in her chair, taking another sip of her coffee.  
A caramel macchiato, if he remembers correctly.  
“It’s not fun, living in hiding,” she muses, and he’s tempted to just get up and walk away. “It’s hard to keep positive about it.”  
“You’re one to talk,” he says scornfully. “You didn’t even last two full years. You’re a quitter.”  
There’s a flicker of something behind her eyes, but he can tell that she’s not going to rise to the bait. She’s always had an incredible supply of self control, and when she doesn’t want to fight, she won’t.   
“Maybe,” she says evenly, “but what does that make you, Danny?”  
He glares at her.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
She rolls her eyes at him.   
“I don’t know how you’re a performer,” she says. “You are a terrible liar.”  
“I’m not – ”  
“Look, Danny,” she says. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen. Yes, it sucks to be stuck in a house with a whole crew of other people, but it’s... well...” She sounds more vulnerable than Danny has heard her sound in a very long time. “It’s... you get close. Really close. You’re... you’re all like a family. And... and that’s a really beautiful thing.”  
“You’re part of the family, too,” Danny hears himself saying. “You know that, right?”  
She laughs again, but it’s quieter and more subdued, and there’s no happiness in it. He feels himself frowning at how lost she looks.  
“I’m not part of it, anymore,” she tells him softly. “I gave that all up when I asked for an out. I don’t have a family anymore.”  
“But – ” Danny begins, and then he stops himself. What is he going to say? ‘You can come back?’ They both know that that’s a lie.  
So in the end he says nothing at all, and they sit there, quietly, for another minute or so, until Henley says, “Well, I’d better be off.”  
“Wait.” The word bursts out of him, uncalled for. She pauses in the middle of scooting her way out of the booth and raises an eyebrow at him. (Her eyebrows are very expressive, he suddenly remembers.)  
“What?” she asks, looking both like she knows exactly what is going on and like she’s totally confused at the same time. It’s one of her many skills, that multi-expression.  
“I… I just…” He stumbles over his words, because what _is _he trying to say? He knows that she can’t come home with him, and she knows it, too, and there’s nothing else that he can say that will ease this ache that’s eating away at both their hearts. So he just looks at her, and she looks back at him, not blinking. They stay like that for who knows how long, just staring at each other without anything to say.  
“Me, too,” she says at length, when it’s been so quiet for so long that they’ve somehow communicated without words.   
“Yeah,” he says, because there’s nothing else to say.  
She nods and wraps her scarf around her neck. He turns his gaze back to his hot chocolate, waiting for the click of her heels to tell him that it’s safe to look up. But he doesn’t hear it, and he doesn’t hear it, and just as he’s starting to turn to see if she’s okay, a warm pair of lips land on his forehead.   
His brain short circuits, and he stares up at her dumbly, his mouth hanging open and warmth flooding his face.  
“Y-you…” he stammers, completely unable to come up with words, and she smiles with one corner of her mouth, reaching out to ruffle his hair with one hand.  
“I’ll miss you, Danny,” she says softly, and then she clicks away.  
Danny finishes his hot chocolate, and he stands up, ready to leave. And then something catches his eye. A paper cup set on top of, not in, the garbage can. He keeps his head down and makes his way over to investigate.  
There’s a name written on it, next to a phone number.  
 _Gretchen _.  
He smiles, picks up the cup, throws his own into the trash, and pushes the door open, heading back out into the rain._________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
